Disclaimer: This story is basically a fantasy involving humiliation, mild violence, and sexual activity between teenage boys. If you find such material offensive or in violation of the laws of your state/country, please don't read any further.
Copyright Art M. Hill ArtHill579@aol.com All rights reserved (2004). If you enjoy this story, please email me.
"High School Blues" part 22: Joe gets marked...
I was a bit worried by Terry's warning that I should be careful "dealing with Cunningham and his buddies." It's not something I didn't already know-- after I had been whipped, beaten, and extorted, and forced to suck their cocks--but the attraction toward those guys kept building. I was coming to like their arrogance, their macho posturing, and even the way they abused and took advantage of me (physically, psychologically, and sexually!) It was like I was being brain-washed. I knew well that it was because my cock had taken control. Every time I thought about how they had marked me with their sperm, I felt a hardon coming. Yeah, I think I would suck any of them off on demand.
I guess by this point it was clear to me that I was, at the very least, bisexual. Unfortunately it seemed like all of them were straight, having girl friends, and constantly bragging about how they had fucked this chick or that one. They always seemed to have girls hanging around them in spite of their "bad boy " rep around school. But I couldn't help but be fascinated. It was this dangerous fascination which was to lead to the most humiliating experience I had so far with these "friends" of mine.
That Friday at school, after I gave them the usual $100 which they had come to expect to help pay for their new bikes, Mike and Jimmy told me excitedly that they had picked up the bikes at the dealership yesterday, and would have them on display at the party tonight. Some of the other guys had already seen them and were jealous as hell (I was hoping against hope that I wouldn't have to " help" them too!) They reminded me that I should be at Mike's house no later than 7:00 pm when the party was to begin. "It's somethin' real simple," Mike assured me. "Just some beer and pizza." We told our girlfriends that this was `a guy thing' so it'll just be us."
After telling my mom where I'd be and that I'd have dinner there, I started out on my bike for Mike's place around 6:30 pm. My face was still quite bruised from the beating I had taken from Shawn although it was beginning to fade. The cuts and scratches had all healed. Since the weather had turned cold I wore my sweats and even a light windbreaker. The days were also getting shorter--it was the end of October--and it was almost dark by the time I arrived in Mike' s neighborhood. As I pulled up to the house I saw the usual array of dirt bikes together with Shawn's van and and Tod's pickup truck.
It seems as if I was the last one to arrive. When Mike answered the door I could already smell the beer on his breath although he still seemed in pretty good shape. As I came in I saw mostly familiar faces. The guys gave me a variety of greetings including the familiar Zits, Pinky, and Champ (apparently referring to my surprising performance in the boxing match.) Mike introduced me to a slightly older dude named Jerry whose muscular arms sported a number of tattoos. Jerry told me a little bit about his work and said that if I ever wanted a tattoo, he would give me 20% off the regular fee. A couple of the other guys including Mike had a tattoo on their arms and they looked pretty cool. Maybe one day...
The two new bikes were on display in the garage and I thought it was no wonder the guys were jealous. They were brand new Hondas and they were beauties. Both were fire engine red. When I saw them, even I was proud that I had made it possible for the guys to get those awesome bikes. Only Mike and Jimmy knew how the bikes were "financed" and they showed them proudly as if they had paid for them by their own work. I guess I was to remain an anonomous donor. (Of course it was really an act of kindness--or selfishness--since, if the other guys knew, all of them would have been after me for financing too!) The guys were particularly friendly that night. Even Shawn made some small talk with me and directed me to the pizza and beer. Both really hit the spot and I was beginning to relax and have a good time.
I noticed that Mike and Jimmy were spending a lot of their time with the older guy, Jerry; maybe he was a friend they hadn't seen in a long time. The guys kept pushing beers on me, and I was so flattered by their attention that I kept taking them and feeling at last like a might be "one of the guys" even if they teased me be calling me Pinky and stuff like that. I started drinking wiskey chasers with the beers as everybody seemed to be doing. But I was getting ahead of the others. Once again they were using my innocence against me, getting me set up for their next humiliation.
It seems that all I did when I was with these guys was pass out from one thing or another. Well it was starting to happen again. The room began to spin as I had my last beer and wiskey combo. Mike and Jimmy saw me wobbling and came over and sat on the sofa on either side of me. "How ya feelin' buddy?" Jimmy asked with a wink at Mike. "I would say you've got a case of too much too fast. Don't worry, it'll pass in awhile."
Just at that moment I fell unceremoniously into Jimmy's lap. "Hey man," Brad teased, "looks like your boy is finally gonna give you a blowjob--and right here in public." (little did Brad know!) Jimmy grinned as everybody laughed. Playing along with the joke he spread his legs and pushed my face right into his groin. I tried to get up, but he held my head down between his legs. I smelled the now-familiar musky odor of his crotch, finding it extreme enticing. "Oh, yeah," he said, "suck that cock, fag, take it all the way down your cocksucking throat." Jimmy threw his head back, arched his back, and groaned in a mock orgasm while bouncing my head up and down in his lap. All the guys cheered and applauded. Jimmy pushed me back up and motioned for two more drinks. "Here' s to our secret benefactor," Jimmy said under his breath as he pushed the brimming glass of wiskey into my hand, "Thanks for helpin' us out man!" I downed the wiskey with no encouragement and at that point totally passed out. Here we go again!
"Okay, dudes," I said, "time for the main event of the evening. Time to mark up the fag for good."
"Yeeeeeeah!" everyone yelled, "Do it! Do it!"
"Okay, okay," I gestured dramatically. "All you guys know Jerry. He's gonna be the MC at the initiation of our little buddy tonight."
The guys started chanting: "Jerryyy! Jerryyy! Jerryyy!"
Several of the guys picked up the fag and carried him down to the basement, which should have had a sign by now reading "Fag's Torture Chamber." We started by taking off his clothes. He began to help us out, maybe thinking his mommy was getting him ready for beddy-bye. He was so clumsy that we had to restrain his arms while we finished the job ourselves. All the guys laughed again when they saw his pink pubes. Too bad he didn't have a boner at the moment. I figured he probably would before the night was over.
Brad and Tod hoisted pussy boy up onto the worktable, laid him on his back, and got him ready for his latest "body work." Hummmmm. I thought, maybe while he's out of it, we should give him nipple rings too...I'll check it out with Jerry when he finishes the tats; he does nipples too!
Jerry had brought a large black leather bag with him which he now placed on the floor next to the bench and opened up. The guys quickly brought him a folding table for his equipment, a chair, alcohol, and some hot water.
I yelled for everyone to shut up. "We all agreed that the faggot should have a tattoo so that everybody would know who he is. Well, we really couldn't come to an agreement on what it would be. We ended up with three: "Cocksucker" " Faggot" and "Fuck Me". Now since we couldn't decide, we figured why not all three! What do you dudes think about that?" Everybody cheered and whistled in approval.
Not knowing what was going on, the fag also drunkenly cheered, which caused the guys to break out in hysterical laughter, some of them rolling on the floor. I had to laugh myself. We were having so much fun humiliating this faggot, and now we were about to degrade him more than ever before. Hair grows back, and color doesn't last, but these tattoos--well, there almost forever! You didn' t know I was a fuckin' philosopher, did ya? Anyway, I couldn't wait to see the poor cocksucker's reaction. We'd have him put on a show for us with his new "decorations." That was gonna be awesome.
"Now," I said, "It doesn't take a fuckin' genius to know where we wanna put these tats, but I'm gonna tell ya anyway. "Cocksucker" over the tits; " Faggot" over his excuse for a cock; and "Fuck Me" right on the pussy. Ya like that, ya bunch of horny studs?"
"Alright!" everybody screamed. "Jerryyy! Jerryyy! Jerryyy!" Jerry gave everyone a `thumbs-up' and then got down to work. The guys crowded around watching intently.
"Hey Dudes!" Jimmy said, "Give the guy some room to work. Artists need space! " Everybody backed up a bit without taking their eyes off the table.
I whispered into the fags ear: "Hey, Joey-boy, listen to me, man, and listen good. I want you to lie perfectly still. We're doin' something real special for you. Let's just say it's your reward for helpin' us out getting the bikes. If it hurts just let me know and we'll take care of it. We don't want our champ to be uncomfortable. Tell you what, just to make sure you don't move, we' ll use a couple of straps to hold you in place. They won't hurt, buddy," I said in a soothing voice. Tod ran a wide leather strap around his waist, looped it under the table and pulled it snug. Phil and Brad each ran straps--one across his legs, and the other around his neck, placing a pillow under his head. We also tied his arms fast. At that point the bastard wasn't goin' nowhere.
Jerry laid out his first design on the Pinky's chest. He traced the letters with indelible ink from a pre-made stencil: F-A-G-G-O-T. He first washed his chest and then used a topical anesthetic to numb the area. Jerry was told to place the tat directly above his nipples. `J' suggested that Jer also put small bulls-eye tattoos around his nipples. "Can do," Jerry said. "Can do." We all watched in awe while Jerry began to fill in the letters he had traced on the fag's bony chest and then to circle the nipples which would be tattooed later.
We decided to let Jerry figure out the right colors and his decisions were just right. He did the word FAGGOT in bright red with a bright purple border-- talk about faggoty colors. He handled his instruments like the expert that he was: mixing the colors, manipulating the needles, injecting just the right amount of dye. When the fag would wince a bit and begin to come out of dreamland we gave him a healthy dose of his favorite fragrance--poppers--and he was sailing away again. It took almost one hour to complete the first tat since Jerry was a very careful worker. After the nipples were finished everyone was ready to take a break for some brews and more pizza. Jerry, however, was determined to finish non-stop. He didn't want to stay around all fuckin' night, he said. So the rest of the guys went up to the porch while Jimmy and I stayed with Jer and shot the bull while he worked.
Phil came down with some beers and cold pizza. That beer sure tasted good right about now. I lit my bong and Jimmy and I past it back and forth. We offered it to Jerry but he shook his head. Jerry loved weed but not while he was working. "Shit man," he said, "when we finish up this dude you'll see how I can handle that stuff." We both laughed as Jerry began Zit's second tat-- C-O-C-K-S-U-C-K-E-R.
Jerry had decided that this one should be centered right above the fag's pink pubes. This one went a lot faster than the first one. Jerry explained that this always happened as he got to know his clients body. Before long Zits had both FAGGOT and COCKSUCKER impressed on his body as well as the bulls eyes around the nips, which made him look like a two-bit whore.
When the guys got back there was a moment of silence like nobody could think of a thing to say. Then everybody started to talk at once: "Fuckin' awesome!" "Sweet, dude!" "Yeah, that's it! That's it!" "Fuckin' genius!" After everybody calmed down we flipped the fag over for the final touch--his pussy tat! F-U-C-K M-E. Once again we strapped the poor bastard down so he didn't move and ruin the tat.
At first we thought it would be a riot to have one word on each cheek, but Jerry argued that if we wanted to embarrass him to the max the tat should be where there would be the most chance of seeing it. Where he finally put it would make it easy to pull up his gym shirt or pull down his shorts and there it would be. This tat would be sort of curved: FUCK over the left cheek and ME over the right. Jerry made the tat even more awesome by pulling the first letter "F"
down around the left butt cheek and the last letter "E" down around the right one almost making it look like another bulls-eye.
"Hey," I said, "How about putting a big cock right in the middle pointed toward his ass hole? That would be awesome!"
Jerry laughed, "You are evil, man. You must really hate this poor shit."
"I don't hate em, man, I only want him to come out and tell everybody who he really is. Actually I'm doin' him a favor, ain't that right, J'?"
"Shit, yeah," Jimmy said, "Jer, we've been tryin' for months now to bring this wimp out of his shell. So we find out he's a faggot and we wanna help him accept it. We figured that if he had it written right on his bod he'd have to be honest about it!"
"Okay, okay, man," Jerry said, as he got back to work, "I really don't give a shit. You're callin' in a favor and I'm happy to oblige. In fact I'm findin' this job real stimulating." Laughing, he showed us the boner in his dirty jeans--it was huge. "Yeah," he said, "I gotta admit I'm really gettin' off on this. Now let'me draw in this big cock you want. That's gonna be on the house."
After stenciling on the tat Jerry once again swabbed the area with alcohol to prevent infection. Zits started to laugh like someone was tickling him. He must have been comin' awake again. Out came the poppers and off he went again.
"Hey man," Jimmy said, "what colors are ya gonna use for his pussy?"
"Well `J' for this one I thought I'd use the same red but with a turd brown border. What do ya think o' that?"
"Shit! That's perfect!" he howled. "How about making that shit border wavy instead of straight. That way it'll look like the shit is splashing right out around that cock."
"Yeah," Jerry said, getting enthusiastic about the project. "And I'll put a couple of blotches further out on his ass to look like the shit really hit the fan." Jerry was laughing so hard he had to stop for a minute so he didn't mess up the tat. He took a break, knocked back his beer and lit up a cig.
Jerry spent about another 45 minutes on what we called his "ass-terpiece." The guys all went crazy when they saw the tat on his ass. "Look at the fucker!"
they almost said in unison before breaking down again into hysterical laughter.
All the guys started to chant again: "Jerryyy! Jerryyy, Jerryyy!"
"Fuck!" screamed Shawn. "Look at that motherfucker! He's not even awake yet and he's got a boner! The motherfucker's got a boner!" Damned if he didn't have a hardon again, the horny bastard! Wonder what he would think when he saw himself this time. What a hoot that would be.
While Jerry was working on the last tat I was thinkin' about those nipple rings. It would really finish things off right. Trouble was it might finish off the fag too. We didn't want him totally freaking out or he might spill the whole thing to the principal or his folks. We would forget about the rings--for now.
Meanwhile, Jerry was putting the finishing touches on FUCK ME. Was this guy good or what?! "Hey Jer," I said, "any problems?"
"Not really, man, but what were all those damn marks on his back and ass. It almost looks like somebody whipped him."
"Well, Jer, old buddy," I said, "when our little friend here gets out of line we gotta punish him just so that he knows his place."
"Hell man," Jerry said, "that's some pretty heavy shit. I'm not telling you what to do, but he could sue your asses off and maybe put you in jail for a couple years. Same with these tats--I could lose my license and my business, so you better keep him quiet."
"Don't worry, dude," I said in a soothing voice. "We got the fag totally under our control. He's terrified of displeasing us and knows better than to open his mouth about anything."
"So man," I said, "what's all this artwork gonna cost me?" (meaning the fag, of course!)
"$250 apiece, so $750 total. Tell you what. Give me $100 for now and then we' ll see about the rest. I want to see how this comes down before we start exchanging any more cash."
"Jerry, your the man! I promise you nothing will happen except a lot of laughs for us and a lot of embarrassment for the faggot. Like I said before: it's time for him to come out and tell everybody who he is.
(to be continued)
***Author's Note: for parts 22 & 23, I was inspired (and turned on) by one of the hottest stories I've ever read: "Tattooed" by BuffHSDude, ASSGM, 1998.